


Birthdays

by oliveriley



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/F, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliveriley/pseuds/oliveriley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on headcanon from jonissheadcanons.tumblr.com: "Johanna cant cook at all, like burns water she’s so bad. She tries to make macaroni or s/t bc she feels bad that katniss always has to cook, but then she catches it on fire and the kitchen smells awful for days / “omg but Johanna asking Peeta to help teach her how to bake so she can make Katniss something for her birthday and Katniss comes back from hunting only to run into Peeta who just throws his hands up at her yells ‘I’M DONE’ and storms off covered in cake batter and smelling like smoke and Katniss walks into the kitchen to find the most butchered cake ever and the kitchen is in ruins”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthdays

“You _have_ to help.”

“No I don’t!”

“Do too! You _owe_ her.”

Peeta frowned, his brows creased and he muttered something, arms crossed. Johanna raised her brows, stifling her laughter at the man who looked more like a twelve year-old boy than a twenty-odd year-old who has been hardened over years of misfortune. Her lips quirked up at the corner of her mouth in a crooked smirk once she knew she had him. It wasn’t the kindest thing to do, but she needed the help and she wasn’t the kindest person. “What was that, bread boy?” She chirped, bouncing up onto the stool at the island, propping her elbows on the counter.

“I said that was years ago,” he added, still looking glum as he pulled the ingredients out of the familiar cabinets in the cabin Johanna and Katniss had built themselves in the woods, after the fence was finally torn down from its ruined state and District 12 was under reconstruction. It was quaint and they’d had help but did most of it themselves, relying on primitive ideals like heating water over a fire instead of heated pipes in their well system. “And Katniss doesn’t even celebrate her birthday. You know that.”  
Johanna shrugged, dipping her hands into the bag of flour and letting it run through her fingers idly. “So? I do. And she deserves it. I sent her out hunting all day. Like all the time.” And it was true. Johanna got wood for fires, did most of the work at home, and even went into town to help around with the constant construction with Katniss. She stuck out from all the folks originally from the Seam, like a splash of color against the ashen grays and cool blues and blacks and olive skin. But they liked her well enough, and no one mentioned it when she turned on her heel and ran home when it started to drizzle, or how she was never to be seen during the rainier days. It worked well for her. But Katniss hunted and she did all the cooking, and despite Johanna's efforts to keep the house clean, she always found ways to keep it even cleaner. She supposed it was just the district, the way the coal dust was still settling, but Katniss was always so particular about the cleanliness of their home. 

——-

After about two hours, Katniss neared the cabin and narrowed her gray eyes at all the shouting. She put her game bag on the porch and kicked off her boots, knowing Johanna would wring her neck for tracking mud inside. She cautiously opened the door, the thick smell of smoke wafting from the kitchen, and she placed her bow under the coat rack, pushing her damp hair away from her face. She was sweaty from the summertime heat, and the house held no relief since it appeared Johanna had been attempting to cook again. “Jo? I’m h-”

“ _Shit!_ ”

“I’m _done_! You can give her this _thing_!” Peeta threw up his hands, frustrated, and stormed out of the kitchen, past Katniss and out the door. “Happy birthday,” he added quickly, before stamping off towards town, probably returning to the bakery he had opened.

Katniss made her way to the kitchen, leaning against the door jamb and giving a small smile to a defeated Johanna, who was holding her head in her hands and looking generally miserable. “I wanted to make you a cake,” she offered weakly, not bothering to look up at her partner, who was now picking her way across the messy kitchen and to behind Johanna, where she slid her hands up the other woman’s muscular back soothingly, kneading the muscles with her calloused hands. “I can’t even be taught.”  
“I think it’s wonderful,” Katniss murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her girlfriend’s neck, nuzzling her face into the collar of her flannel shirt. Johanna turned around, about to argue, but was silenced by the adoring gray eyes of the younger woman, who looked absolutely exhausted from the damp heat in the woods. “Let’s just let the house air out, and take a shower.” Johanna never agreed to a shower that quickly, and never would again. Except maybe on birthdays.


End file.
